Dance of the broken
by ObsessiveCompulsive5699
Summary: They dance around each other, the dance of the broken, and whisper sweet nothings to ears that can no longer tell the difference between lies and truths


_Author's notes_

_This was written beacuse I was inspires by Catgurl2004's beautiful piece called "**Menage a Trois". **I highly recomend you read this fic, beacuse it is great. However, this is fairly good itself, and I'm proud of it. If it doesn't make sense, please let me know._

_Warning: Alcohalism? weird writing_

_Disclamor: Is half the Akatsuki still dead? Then I don't own_

_Author: Obsessive_

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He had been sitting there for awhile. How long, he didn't know. The days and hours had blended into one consecutive streak, blurring reality. His blank eyes stared into the half full glass of sake, and he noticed how every movement stired the drink. He also noticed the design on the outside, and decided that it was more beautiful than he would ever be. It brought an almost sad expression to his face, but it was soon replaced by the emptiness that had become his constant countenance. 

The shop bell dings, and he felt rather than saw the body sit next to him. He didn't look up, didn't have to, because he knew who it was. It had been the same person for the past few years, since the very first day it was legal. After maybe 20 minutes, they look up. Neither said anything, they just gazed at each other, each longing to do something, but not wanting to break the serenity that had befallen them long before.

He saw she was already on her third cup, he on his sixth. He didn't bother to make note of this, because what good would it do anybody? Everyone who mattered knows of their problems, and anyone else has long since lost their place in their world. As he took another sip, he had to smile at the familiarity of this scene. Had their mentors not been in this position years before?

She almost asked about the smile, as it was something he rarely did any more. The words died in her throat though, as she realized that any noise might break the spell. Instead, she just took in the lovely sight, not caring about the underlying sadness. She drank it in like she drank the bitter liquid in her cup.

Hours passed, as usual, though nothing changed between the two of them, except the number of empty bottles around them. The darkness had fallen long ago, and the blackness was startling compared to the light in the shop, creating long shadows along the walls. A gust of wind blew the flimsy door open, and made the chair on the other side of him squeak.

Yes, tonight was no different than any other, except tonight another joined them. His dark eyes seemed to see into their souls as he sat down. No one took his order, since no one thought him to be there. A look of fake contentment was on his face, but it was permanently camped there, and lacked the comfort it was meant to hold due to the dark circles under his eyes.

She smiled at him, and he nods his head. Looking at the other man sitting, he received a curt nod in greeting, and the fake smirk faded to the same void expression that their faces had. The atmosphere grew uneasy and tense, like it always did when they were together. At one time, you could feel the love they held for each other, but now, there were few emotions. Sadness and loneliness were the ones that were the strongest.

They sat there, no noises, no movements. Such behavior was so out of place, and yet expected. The sat there, perhaps thinking of their lives, perhaps thinking of nothing at all. She thought of how pathetic she had become. She was so far from the strong, beautiful, intelligent woman she strove to be in her youth. Now her dreams have left her, and so had her personality. She was frail and timid, no longer fit to take charge of anything. Perhaps in thinking this, she swirled the liquid in her cup faster in anger, or perhaps she did so unconsciously wanting it to slosh over so she could not drink anymore.

He sat and wondered where exactly he went wrong. Not even ten years ago he had been so promising, and now he had given up all his goals. They were meaningless in the face of the one thing he couldn't accomplish, but needed to more than anything. Despite his age, as he sat there, he felt old, far older than he should have. He had lost his spark, and now had no energy left to do anything extra besides sipping out of cups, reminiscing about his better days.

The last in the line had long since given up. All his hopes had left him, leaving him behind in the dust. Somehow, fighting just didn't help anymore, and razors had lost their shine. He was a failure, completely and utterly useless, or so he told himself. He's lost in life, unable to start clean, yet unable to move forward. He just sat there, and no matter where "there" was, he did nothing, because he had nothing to do.

The did not complete each other, nor did they support each other. However, they did belong together, and there was some reassurance to be had in seeing the same unchanging bleak faces year after year. They danced around each other, the dance of the broken, and whispered sweet nothings to ears that could no longer tell the difference between lies and truths.

There wasn't enough smiles and make-up in the world to hide her scars. He still clung to the elusive dream of his childhood. The last discovered too late that what he wanted no longer outweighs what he had. And there they were, souls suffering without their long-lost innocence and aged from the non-existent childhood they left too soon.

As the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, she stood. The sake had long since turned bitter and foul, and sat unconsumed in both ninjas' cups. He made no move to stop her, and only made a hushed grunt in parting. Her hand was on the door-knob, and slowly the door opened. Walking through the doorway, she paused and looked back. She saw the poster child of sorrow, sitting all alone with his hand still clutching the cup.

"We have changed." Her mutter was soft, yet he heard it. His eyes roamed to the empty seat on his left where one should have been, would have been, could have been, as he heared the door swing shut. He closed his eyes, and his head fell back wearily.

Then he too stood, and walked to the door. He stoood outside, looking at the three middle seats, at the two generations of misery and alcohol he could see clearly, and he saidd something to himself quietly.

"Nothing will ever be the same again."

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_So...review please!_


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